DISCUS THROWER by David Nez

 



"Mother dear, bring me up in the shade,
And then give me to some young Beg.
I do not want the Beg; I do not love him;
Nor the Aga; he is not my beloved.
Were I to choose a man,
I know whence I would choose him
The two Fazlagichi from Gacko,
Or Resulbegovich from Trebinje.
Alas, what shall I do? I have agreed.
What shall I do now when the wedding guests come?
My mother says: 'Get married, daughter.'
My father says: 'You have my blessing.'
My sister says: 'I will accompany you.'
My little brother says: 'I will mourn for you. Go ahead, sister, I will get married too.' "

(another text sung to the same melody)

I walk through the village and they mock me,
Because I am wooing an only daughter.
Let the village be hanged! I shall go to the feast.
I shall celebrate as I wish.
Let the village burst with sorrow,
Because I have my eye on Emina.
I do not grow pale, nor do I blush.
How lovely she is! A joy to her mother!
Her cheeks are two red roses,
Her eyes, two cooling pools,
Her eyebrows are like sea leeches,
Her lashes, like a swallow's wing.
She wears a red necklace on her white throat,
And it well becomes the maid!

 

Translated by Albert B. Lord, in Bela Bartok and Albert B. Lord, Serbo-Croatian Folk Songs (New York: Columbia University Press, 1951), 279.